


The Price of Love

by forestgreen



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bruce Wayne never adopts Jason, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Jason Todd is Not Robin, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Grooming, Past Underage Sex, Prostitution, past underage prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/pseuds/forestgreen
Summary: The longer this thing of theirs goes on, the worse it gets. Jason's dancing on a tightrope and sooner or later he's going to fall.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, past Jason Todd/Roman Sionis
Comments: 15
Kudos: 82
Collections: BruJay Week 2021





	The Price of Love

**Author's Note:**

> For BruJay Week's day seven prompt: "Bruce never adopts Jason."
> 
>  **Read first** : This story mentions past sexual child abuse between Jason Todd and Roman Sionis. If that is something that bothers you, don't read it. 
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely Akelios for the speedy beta. You're the best! All remaining mistakes are mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're late."

"God damn it!" Jason jumps and loses the grip on his backpack. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter. "Could you not do that?" he snaps, heart beating a mile a minute.

"You're late," Batman repeats.

"Only by ten minutes," Jason hisses, with more heat than he'd usually allow himself when talking to a client. "The bus was late, and some of us don't have fancy cars to drive around town. This wouldn't happen if you'd send me the address the day before, instead of thirty minutes before I have to _be_ here." 

"I can't risk it," Batman says, his voice much closer than it was before. 

Jason still hates this part, even after three months. There's a little voice in him screaming, 'Run, run now!' It's not that Jason is afraid of darkness, but there's darkness, and then there's darkness that Batman is _using_ to fuck with his head. On purpose. The _ass_.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna sell your location to the highest bidder and then you'll be dead." The absolute _paranoid_ ass.

As if Jason wants anyone to know he's fucking Batman. That's just a quick trip to the cemetery: Do not pass Go, do not collect any money. _If_ he's lucky and Roman's feeling particularly merciful that day. Odds are high there will be nothing quick about his death if Roman ever finds out. He might indulge Jason and allow him to pick and discard clients as he sees fit--a freedom none of his other whores have--but Jason knows perfectly well that that freedom doesn't extend to Batman. If Roman ever finds out... 

Jason knows better. He _knows_. The fear should paralyze him. Instead, his body sings with arousal when Batman pulls him close into all that Kevlar, leather and whatever other fancy super high-tech material Batman's suit is made of. Jason goes willingly, draping himself against Batman, answering want with want.

He doesn't remember the last time he felt this alive. Probably back when he was still young enough to be Roman's favorite. There's something very broken in Jason's head, because he doesn't know what turns him on more: Batman's hands and mouth, desperate and hungry, roaming across Jason's body with entitled possessiveness or the knowledge of what Roman will do to Jason if he ever finds out.

He kisses Batman back hungrily. He's betraying Roman by allowing himself to have this, to _enjoy_ this. Betrayal. Payback. True desire? Some last remains of the Poison Ivy's pollen that first brought them together? Jason doesn't know and doesn't care. Not as long as he gets to have this.

"I know you won't sell the information," Batman whispers against his mouth, peppering small kisses along Jason's jaw and cheeks. "That's not--" He tugs at Jason's t-shirt, pulling it free from his jeans.

"You rip it again and I'll add it to your bill," Jason reminds him.

"Yes," Batman says, and rips it.

The thin, worn-down cloth tears easily. The sound travels straight to Jason's cock, making him shiver with pleasure. He bought the oldest, cheapest t-shirts he could find at a thrift shop just for this. Ten t-shirts for two dollars and Batman pays him 50 bucks for every one he breaks. If only all of Jason's clients were as stupidly accommodating.

Jason lets his head fall back to give Batman more room to work. "God, yes, just like that." He moans and presses into Batman's mouth. It's not even fake. Batman has learned how to get these reactions out of him. For once, he doesn't need to pretend he's enjoying himself to satisfy a client's fragile ego.

The nose protection of the cowl scratches against his neck as Batman bites his way down Jason's neck to his collarbone. He knows what'll come next. Batman might change locations on him every time they meet, but certain things are just routine by now.

"Turn around," he orders, while his hands push Jason into the exact position he wants him.

The ease with which Batman manhandles him leaves him whimpering in need. It's been so long since someone could shift him around that easily. He could almost pretend he's still eleven and those are Roman's hands forcing him to bend down and _take it_. Jason shivers.

The silk presses softly against his eyes as Batman wraps the blindfold around Jason's head four times before tying it. He tests the give. None. "Don't take it off," he orders like he always does.

"Sure thing, boss," Jason says in a sultry voice. He's already half hard, anticipation coiling in his groin. A Pavlovian response to the blindfold. "Talk to me," he adds. "Want to hear your voice. Please." Batman likes it when Jason begs. Another thing he and Roman have in common, even though their methods to make it happen couldn't be more different.

This part is for Jason, though. He wants to know that it's Batman behind him. If he's gonna betray Roman he might as well do it right. He'll kill me, he thinks, and then forces himself to concentrate on Batman's mouth as his teeth dig into the skin of Jason's neck, _marking him_.

"Jason," Batman whispers against Jason's neck, voice deep and raspy. He traces his tongue over Jason's skin, soothing the pain his teeth caused. "This is the last time. You know that, right?"

"You better leave me a fat tip, then," Jason gasps. "A last goodbye." Jason's long past the point where he believes him. But one thing you learn quickly in this job is to let clients keep their delusions. As long as they pay him, Jason doesn't care what lies they need to tell themselves. 

Batman tugs at his hair cruelly, pulling Jason's head back. "I mean it this time," he grunts.

Jason's cock twitches inside his jeans, leaking already. _'You're a natural born whore, son,'_ Roman's voice echoes in his mind. It took years for Jason to accept that truth, to realize that Roman had been right all along. Jason _is_ a natural born whore. Pain turns him on like nothing else can.

"Let's make it count, then," Jason says instead of wasting breath contradicting Batman. Not that he would. The client is always right, after all. "Make me feel it. Give me something to remember you by."

Batman won't stop, though. Jason knows better than most how to recognize the signs of addiction. Batman's hooked. He'll find the right lies to tell himself and in three days time there will be another call with another address. They've been playing this game for a while now.

Batman laps his way up Jason's neck, alternating between kisses and bites, until he reaches Jason's ears. He worries at the lobe with sharp teeth, pulling and licking.

Jason gasps and shudders. He's glad none of his other clients know how sensitive his ears are. It's a toss up if he loves or hates that Batman figured it out. 

Jason whines and his legs threaten to give out under him. He leans into Batman's chest, letting him support his weight. "Is that your utility belt or are you just happy to see me?" He rubs his ass against Batman's groin, invitingly.

"That joke was awful the first time you made it." He yanks Jason's hair and bites his neck in retaliation. "It's only gotten worse since."

Jason continues rubbing against him, feeling like a cat in heat, desperate and needy. "Is that your utility belt or are you just happy to see me?" he repeats, letting his voice go deep and sultry. If Batman wanted to stop Jason from saying it, he really shouldn't bite his neck like that when he hears the question.

Batman twists one of his nipples. Which, oh yeah, definitely not a deterrent _at all_. Jason moans at the rough texture of the glove, skin prickling with goosebumps.

"Need you so bad," Jason lies. "Be-been thinking about you since last time. Couldn't stop." That part is definitely true. He can't stop thinking about Batman, about what Roman will do to him if he ever finds out, which in turn only makes him think about Batman some more.

The longer this thing of theirs goes on, the worse it gets. Jason's dancing on a tightrope and sooner or later he's going to fall.

Batman's breath stutters. He pushes Jason forward until his knees hit some kind of bed. "Shut up," he growls, and presses Jason's forward, forcing him to climb onto the bed on all fours.

"Make me," Jason eggs him on, because that's what Batman wants, and Jason is very very good at giving people exactly what they want.

Batman might love to pretend he's a gentle, careful lover. Maybe he is, in whatever life he has outside that suit, but there's a coiled violence in him that's begging to be let out. Jason saw it that first night, when Poison Ivy's pollen erased all of Batman's inhibitions. He felt it for days afterwards, as the bruises and handprints faded from his skin. 

Jason's a professional. He recognizes the signs of someone stumbling upon a kink they didn't know they had. Fulfilling that desire is the difference between a one-timer and a regular. Jason's job is to make Batman lose that iron control of his until he forgets he's supposed to be some paragon of virtue and lets himself _be_.

Jason arches his ass up and wiggles it. Just a little mocking tease that has Batman grabbing Jason's hips and yanking his jeans down. He pushes off Jason's sneakers to take the jeans all the way off, but leaves the socks on.

The blindfold stops Jason from seeing anything, but the mental imagine of himself, completely naked, with only his socks on, while Batman is still fully clothed is so hilariously gay vanilla porn that Jason has to wrestle down the urge to laugh out loud.

"Yeah, big guy, that's it," Jason moans mockingly, when he has himself under control. If Batman wants bad porn, Jason can oblige him. "Fuck me hard. Split me open with that fat cock of yours." He sounds horribly fake, which is the aim. Batman is the type of client who'll only be satisfied if he can tell himself he managed to give Jason _real_ pleasure.

It's easier for Jason to control the pace if he starts him off with some obviously bad acting. Just annoying enough for Batman to--

The force of the slap has Jason stumbling face first into the mattress. "I told you to shut up," Batman snarls.

The second spank comes soon after and then the third. Those gloves of his are going to be the death of Jason. "Oh, yeah, that's it. I'm being a bad boy. Punish me, B."

The fourth slap is harder. That seething, coiled violence finally coming out to play as lust and anger shortcut Batman's self-control. The fifth lands, hard and strong and perfect. That one will definitely leave a mark. Jason whimpers and arches his back, pushing into the next spank, demanding more.

"Please, B." He drops some of the act, allowing his voice to turn deeper, more sincere. The little tingle of pain is traveling directly to Jason's groin, and if Batman keeps it up, Jason might let the Daddy lodged in his throat escape past his lips after all.

Maybe he's further gone than he'd like to admit, but Batman is becoming rougher, too, less careful, more demanding, treating him more and more like a piece of flesh he bought to use and less like a lover he has to woo into compliance. And Jason, god, Jason's always been a sucker for assholes.

There's a rustling noise. Something falling to the floor. Probably Batman's cape and the utility belt, maybe even some other outer layer of protection. Jason has never been allowed to see. There's the sound of plastic ripping and then Batman's fingers are pushing into him, wet with lube.

"You prepared yourself." There's a slight note of accusation in his voice.

"Didn't know how desperate you'd be." The first days, still under the influence of the pollen, Batman had barely been able to wait, ripping Jason's clothes and pushing into him, vibrating with a tension that threatened to turn into the-not-fun-kind of violence at the mere hint of resistance on Jason's part.

Jason hadn't said no, or stop, or even slow down. He'd taken everything Batman had to give and asked for more. It gave him the illusion that he had a say in this, that it was happening because he agreed to it. He doesn't want to imagine what would have happened if he'd said no. Batman probably doesn't either.

"It's not as bad anymore," Batman says, but he still pushes into Jason in one steady thrust until he bottoms out. No pause. No give. Just pushing in all the way until he's sheathed inside Jason's body as though he belongs there. 

Jason squeezes his ass and pushes back into the thrust, tightening himself like a vice. Batman grunts and curses and whatever semblance of composure he managed to hold onto disappears. 

"Jason," he pants as he grabs Jason's hips with enough force to leave finger-shaped bruises. He pulls out and slams in with barely a pause.

"Come on," Jason goads him. "Don't hold back on me. Fuck me like you mean it, boss."

Batman grunts and starts pistoning into him. The force sends Jason careening into the mattress. The hinges of the bed squeak and groan under them with every thrust. 

"Yeah, that's it. Missed your cock so bad!" Jason says with a breathy moan, "Was all I could think about since last time."

Batman might be the toughest, meanest bastard out there, but balls deep into Jason's ass, he's as weak to dirty talk as every other john Jason's ever had. He fucks into Jason like a man possessed.

"Need it so badly, B," Jason whines, squeezing tightly around Batman's cock as though he'd die if it leaves him. "Fuck me, please. Harder. I need it! Need you! Please." One quarter is pure theatrics, because this _is_ Jason's job and he takes pride in giving his customers exactly what they want, but three quarters is genuine enjoyment. Batman knows how to do a boy right.

"Shut up!" Batman snarls, fucking him harder and deeper and _faster_. "Just shut up!"

Jason's gonna be feeling it for days. "Then make me," he snarls back. "Fuck me so hard I forget how to talk. Give it to me!" 

Batman grabs the back of Jason's hair and pushes his face into the mattress. The new angle has him hitting Jason's prostate with every thrust and Jason could almost let himself forget he's on the job here. It _is_ that good. He whimpers and pushes back, undulating his hips to get the angle just right. Beads of sweats break out down his back and chest as they fuck, rutting like animals on the squeaky bed. 

"Look at you," Batman grunts. "You really love it, don't you?" His free hand finds Jason's cock, already hard and leaking. It's the kind of thing Roman would say, but Roman's voice would be dripping derision. Batman's is filled with wonder.

"Yeah, B, please, I need it, boss. Please." The words are muffled against the sheets. His toes are curling with desire and fuck, Batman does him so good. Days like this, Jason remembers why he likes his job. 

Batman thrusts stutter. "You are-- I can't--" He stops, panting, trying to gain back some of his control.

Jason won't have that. He pushes back into him and squeezes, fucking himself on Batman's cock and moaning loudly.

"Stay still!" Batman slaps his thigh hard.

Jason pants, trembling with pent-up desire, but he does still. Batman sounds on the verge of losing it, and coming too soon is something that most clients hate.

"It shouldn't still feel like this," Batman says, and there's anger in his voice.

Jason knows what he means. "I don't mind a bit of rough, B." Or a lot, really.

"That's not it." Batman moves again, slower this time. He pulls out and then pushes slowly in. His fingers interlace with Jason's on the mattress. Batman presses into him, covering him with his body, keeping Jason's hands pinned, taking away what little leverage the position might offer Jason. It's perfect. 

The blindfold makes everything seem more intense. The touches, the smells, the sensations. All his other senses are on overdrive trying to compensate for the lack of sight. He feels every inch of Batman's cock as it pushes in and out of him, that slow stretch as his body opens and closes around it like it was made just for this. 

"Can you come on my cock alone?" Batman asks, voice rough and deep as he thrusts in and out oh so slowly.

Jason can. Roman trained him to come untouched long before Jason was physically able to produce actual jizz. It's a lesson that served him well in his profession. Nothing gets a john harder in the ego than believing Jason came only on their cock.

This is the first time Batman has asked Jason to do this for him, and even half drowning in pleasure and so close to coming that he can taste it on the back of his throat, Jason knows to milk it for all it's worth. "I haven't...," he gives an extra moan for show, "never managed before, but I'm so close, B. Please. I'm so close." He doesn't sound fake now. He sounds as though he's going to die if Batman doesn't let him come soon.

Batman's rhythm falters. He pulls Jason's head up by the hair, forcing him into a painful arch that gets his cock even deeper into Jason. "You will tonight," he growls. A command if Jason's ever heard one. "You'll come on my cock or not at all."

Bingo. They all so love to be Jason's first _something_.

Jason whimpers, "Yes, anything you want. Please, just let me. Need it. Yeah, just like that," he urges Batman on, when he starts quickening the pace again. "Need you!" The squelching sound of lube and sweat and flesh hitting flesh mix with Jason's breathy, needy moans and Batman's panting.

The room smells of sex and desire, of sweat and leather. Batman's hands clutch Jason's as he bites Jason's nape, the side of his throat, his shoulder blades, his ears again. 

Jason keens, "Please."

"Yeah, that's it. Come on!" Batman grunts, thrusting harder, faster, deeper. "Come for me, Jason," he orders, jabbing into Jason's prostate again and again with perfect precision. 

Jason shouts and arches his back. He lets the waves of pleasure finally crash over him and comes all over the bed. Batman keeps thrusting into him, hard and fast. Jason pushes back and squeezes, rotating his hips to make it even better for him. Batman grunts and presses one final time, pushing Jason into the mattress as he spills silently into him.

Batman doesn't crash on top of Jason afterwards, but stays just like that, panting for a couple of seconds until he gets his bearings back. Then, he withdraws slowly, mindful of the condom. That's fine by Jason. One case in which Batman's paranoia aligns beautifully with his. 

"That was fantastic," Jason pants, keeping his voice low and smoky. He's going for 'wrecked with pleasure' and it comes out perfectly. Thank you very much. "I've never come so hard in my life."

Batman snorts. "You probably say that to all your customers." He bites Jason's shoulder softly and then lets himself fall on the bed next to Jason.

"Maybe," Jason agrees, amused despite himself. "But I don't mean it with most of them."

"And you mean it with me?" The question is innocent enough, presented as a joke between the two of them, but Jason knows how fragile client's egos are right after a good, hard fucking.

Jason shifts until he can half drape himself over Batman. The blindfold is still on, but it's easy enough to find one of those massive shoulders and kiss the skin there, before resting his head on it. 

"Absolutely," he says. It's not a lie, not that Batman would notice it, if it was. He might be _Batman_ but Jason has been working this job since he was eleven, almost a decade now. He knows how to sell a good lie.

Batman lets his fingers trail up and down Jason's arm and Jason relaxes on top of him. Batman is a cuddler. That's something he never would have guessed in a million years and it still surprises him every time. 

"You don't have to do this, you know," Batman whispers. "I can help you start a new life."

Jason has had countless clients in his lifetime. Some harder to please than others, each unique in his own way, and yet, most of them can be slotted into two main categories: the ones who buy a body to use and discard, and the ones who want a twofer of sex and intimacy, no matter how fake the latter might be. 

And then, there's the third category. The fairy tale john. The ones who want to rescue sex workers from their lives so that they can have exclusive access to the honey pot. Not many of those in Crime Alley, even though the newest sex workers still believe in them the same way children believe in Santa: if you're really really good, he'll come for you, too. Right. 

It's oddly ironic that Jason, who never believed in or prayed for a fairy tale john, finds himself stuck with one. Jason doesn't need rescuing now. He took Roman's bargain with his eyes wide open. He might have been too young to understand the words in the fine print, but he accepted Roman's offer knowing there would be no take-backs, no rescue, no happy endings. Freeze on the streets and die or take the devil's hand and live another day. 

Jason chose life. 

And here Batman comes, a decade too late, to offer him an out he no longer needs. Jason already rescued himself. He likes his life. It might not be perfect, but it's his and Jason fought too hard to get where he is now to throw it down the drain on Batman's say so.

"I like my life," Jason says.

"Jason--"

"B." Jason reaches blindly with one hand, until he finds Batman's lips and presses his fingers over them, silencing him. "I don't need you to save me. I'm fine. Despite what morally uptight citizens might think, sex work is just a job, worse than some, better than others. It has existed for as long as humans have been human and it will continue to exist for as long as humanity does. There's nothing intrinsically wrong with it."

"It's illegal," Batman said.

Jason snorts. "As if you have room to talk. Being a vigilante wasn't legal back when you first started. You and your friends from the Justice League just had enough power to shift the status quo. There are countries in which sex work isn't illegal either. It'd certainly be nice if it was the case here, too."

Not that it matters. Jason spent a large part of his formative years sitting on Roman's lap while the man built his empire, pushing out the old mafia families and consolidating the power of Gotham's underground for the False Facers. Jason understands how the system works maybe better than Batman does. Legality is just a construct to be used and discarded as needed as long as you have the money and the power to back it up.

Batman moves Jason's hand away. "You don't have to--" he starts to say.

Yeah, no. Jason isn't having this conversation. "This is the last time, isn't it?" he reminds Batman and climbs blindly on top of him until he's straddling his hips. "Let's make the most of it."

Batman sighs, but then his hands settle on Jason's hips and when Jason leans down to kiss him, he opens his mouth and lets himself be kissed. They break apart panting, and Batman cradles Jason's head to his chest. Jason rubs his cheek against him.

"We really can't keep doing this, Jason. It's too risky. For me. For _you_."

Ah, he's not a total idiot after all. "I thought you were done being maudlin."

Batman huffs out a snort. "I want to help you."

"Then fuck me, B," Jason says. "Fuck me so hard and good that no one else can ever compare. Who knows? Maybe I'll stop then. Spend the rest of my days longing for that cock of yours, jerking off to the memory of it, the little Penelope to your Ulysses. Me, wasting away, dreaming of your cock, turning down all others, while you're gallivanting through the world from adventure to adventure."

Batman laughs out loud. A rumble that comes from deep within his belly. It's hard to get him to laugh like that. Harder than it is to make him come, that's for sure. Every time Jason manages it, it feels like a personal victory.

"Let's see if I can do that, then" Batman says in between chuckles. He flips Jason and brackets him with his body, towering over him.

The laughter fades and tension rises between them, the room almost crackling with the speed of their growing desire. Jason swallows and licks his lips, the taste of Batman still fresh on them.

Batman takes hold of one of Jason's thighs and pushes it up, hooking Jason's leg over his shoulder, giving himself more room to work. Then, his fingers are in Jason, pushing, three at once, no extra lube. Just making sure Jason's still open enough from before. A bit of a rustle and the blunt tip of his cock enters Jason. A fresh condom easing the way with what little lubrication it has.

The stretch burns but it feels as good as it did before. Better even, now that Jason's loose from that first orgasm. "Yeah, so good. Come on, B, show me what you've got. Fuck me so good that I forget everything else and can only think of that fat cock of yours. A work of art. God's personal gift to every gay boy. The perfect piece of--"

"Jason," Batman snarls like it's a curse, "Shut up."

Jason laughs, happy and carefree. "Then make me." After all, if Jason has learned one thing it's that Batman loves a good challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! ❤️
> 
> P.S. I might continue this story later on, but I think it stands on its on, which is why I posted it as complete. I might add more chapters, or I might get distracted by a new shinny thing. 🙃 Muses are fickle.


End file.
